Hard Hearted Stranger
by FLASHDELIRIUM
Summary: "Do you mean it?" Eponine asked softly, holding his hand against her cheek. He simply shrugged, unsure of whether he loved or hated this girl that broke down every wall he worked so hard to build. "Maybe." / Rated T for safe measure.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so I have a confession. I'm still in the process of reading the book, so I'm sure a lot of this will be OOC and (definitely) not canon. Please bare with me! This chapter is a bit rushed as it hit me like a truck and I had to write it, but I promise that the next one will tie up some loose ends from the first chapter. Anyway, enjoy! x**

* * *

Eponine sighed, listening to the rain as it poured heavily onto her thin room. Small drops leaked through, making her already cold flat even chillier. Her small brother, Gavroche, was sleeping soundly on the lone bed in their shared home. The sight of him with bandages wrapped around his torso caused her stomach to sink and her own wounds to sting. Joly had done an excellent job sewing her injuries shut, and they were healing at an extremely rapid pace, but every time she thought of the incident, she couldn't help but feel the sharp pain she felt as soon as the silver tore through her.

Sure, the revolution was successful. But at what cost? Her brother, though a young boy, has lost his childhood. His innocence. It wasn't as if being abandoned by your parents before you hit your teens leaves you with much of either, but any remaining traces had been snuffed out by the bullet that pierced his skin shattered a rib.

Her concern for Gavroche wasn't the only troubling thing. She had, in fact, seen many men fall while she was disguised as a male at that lonely barricade. Many of them were her own friends. Mabeuf was shot dead while raising the flag. He was the first to go. His passing helped prepare her for the duration of the barricade's standing, as she was somewhat desensitized to the subject of death ̶̶̶ so long as it didn't involve her beloved Marius. Soon after Mabeuf, Lesgle, the oldest of the group, lived up to his reputation of bad luck. A piece of shrapnel ricocheted off of a window, finding its way into his skull. Bahorel, who was raised in the exact circumstances that Enjolras fought against, had gone down with one clean shot through the heart. Feuilly's studies of revolution weren't enough to pull him through the final battle.

And then there was the leader himself. Pierced by eight bullets, Apollo proved he was mortal. Enjolras died for the woman he loved. He died for his Patria. In that respect, Eponine couldn't help but feel connected to him. Both were willing to die for one that would never love them back. It was a rather foolish act, and rather selfish on Eponine's behalf. However, her efforts proved to be successful. Marius continued to live, and even if it was in Cosette's arms, she couldn't help but be overjoyed. He was _her_ Patria.

* * *

"Monsieur Marius, are you sure you don't mind us spendin' the night?" Eponine asked tentatively, shuffling her feet as she followed him toward the guest bedroom in his grandfather's manor. "It's not a big deal; we can travel back to our flat. It ain't that far."

"It isn't that far," Marius corrected, opening a closet so Sabine, one of M. Gillenormand's maids, could pull out some clean sheets for the large bed that looked ever-so-inviting. "And of course it's no problem, 'Ponine. You and Gavroche are always welcome. We were neighbors, after all. With walls that thin, it was like we were living in the same home." He chuckled to himself, patting down on the fluffy, feather filled comforter that Sabine had laid out before silently scurrying out of their way. "Come, sit. I have much to discuss with you."

"Much to discuss?" Eponine excitedly took a spot on the bed close to her beloved, a bounce in her step that she had not had in what seemed like years. "What do you want to talk about, Marius?"

Marius had a large grin on his face as he held her hands in his, causing her cheeks to turn a crimson shade. "Eponine, you're my dearest friend. And I wanted you to be the first person to hear this. Are you ready?"

She nodded maniacally, her eyes wide with anticipation.

"I've talked to both my grandfather and M. Fauchelevent, and they've both approved. Tomorrow night, I am going to ask Cosette to be my bride."

"Oh." Eponine had to clear her throat to distract herself from the tears that threatened to fall. His words hurt more than she imagined the dull blade of the guillotine did. She knew that he loved her, but she didn't realize that it was to such a high degree. "I'm… I'm so happy for you! She'll say yes, no doubt. She'd be stupid not to."

"I suppose ." Marius shrugged, nervously fidgeting with the hem of his coat. "Only time will tell."

* * *

Eponine sighed, wandering into the kitchen to get something to eat to keep her mind off of the news that she had received. Gavroche was off somewhere, running around the house, so she had no one to keep her company. Rather than continue to talk to the man who just broke her heart, she grabbed a particularly plump looking grape off the vine, popping it into her mouth mindlessly. The brunette grabbed a handful of the fruit, turning on her heel to reach the table. Much to her surprise, a tall figure appeared in the doorway, startling her.

"Eponine?" The shadowy man called.

"Yes?" She squinted her eyes, taking a few short steps closer to him. Once she realized his identity, her eyes darted open. His blonde hair was disheveled, and yet it still framed his face perfectly. He was worn and pale, but his good looks were still extremely obvious. Standing before her was Apollo himself. "_Oh mon dieu_."

"You look as if you've seen a ghost." He chuckled, a pained expression immediately finding its way to his face. Eponine rushed to his side, guiding him to a seat before getting him a glass of water.

"I feel as if I have, Enj-uh, monsieur," she managed to sputter. "You're… how? You… I… Eight!"

"I know, I know. Joly found me rather quickly, and he had babbled enough about applying pressure to gashes to get it permanently etched into my memory."

"Doesn't matter when he found you, monsieur. It's still hard to believe that… I can't believe it. How are you…?" Eponine didn't want to seem insensitive and ask him how the hell he was alive, but at the same time, she did. Being pierced with eight shells is surely a death sentence. However, it would not be the first time Enjolras impressed and surprised her.

"You're not the first to ask, Eponine. Do not act as if it's such a crime to be curious. Without curiosity, we would not have anything," he said in a stern tone. She couldn't help but roll her eyes. No matter what Enjolras was doing, he still found a way to sneak a lesson in. "Miraculously, none of the bullets pierced anything vital. A sign from God, surely."

The brunette crossed her arms against her chest, leaning against the closest wall. "And what would that sign be pointing to, monsieur?"

"To keep fighting for my Patria. Living must mean that I need to keep fighting. I said I would die for her, and I will. Oh, and Eponine? Don't call me monsieur. It's Enjolras," he said nonchalantly as he finished his glass of water. "I'm rather parched. Would you mind getting me another glass of water, _mademoiselle_?"

He said his last word with a playful tone, mocking her inability to drop the formalities. Even though he only used it once, she instantly felt irritated and made a mental note to start addressing him by his first name in case it bothered him as much as it bothered her. Eponine took the glass from his grip, filling it once more. She nearly dropped the cup when she felt a stern hand on her shoulder. Turning quickly to face the person behind her, she had her hand balled in a fist in preparation for whoever it could be. Her fingers relaxed when she saw it was Marius.

"What are you doing out of your room? I can't have you stressing yourself out by taking care of Enjolras, 'Ponine. What use is it to have one injured person taking care of another?" Marius crinkled his nose, pulling a chair out for her to rest in.

Before Eponine could come up with some witty retort, Enjolras did. "You speak as if you're not injured yourself, Marius. Your arm is in a sling, my friend. Unless I'm just seeing things now."

Eponine glared at the blonde male, signaling she didn't appreciate him attempting to 'help' her. His sarcastic remarks, while very common, never had such a playful tone to them. It was strange to hear him speak so lightly, especially since he had almost died a few months prior. When she noticed that he was looking back at her, his gaze burning into hers, she snapped her head to the side to elude his blue orbs.

"Defending Eponine, huh?" Marius scoffed. "How unlike you. It's almost as if you wish her to keep you company."

Without another word, Marius left the two of them alone. His words resonated in Eponine's mind, her thoughts racing. Did he want to spend time with her, and if so, why? How was he keeping such a sunny disposition after all of the events that happened? And why wouldn't he stop looking at her?


	2. Chapter 2

After guiding Enjolras back to the room he had been staying in, Eponine felt uneasy. Why was the leader of the revolution, who had been so callous and cold to her before, being so nice all of a sudden? Before, he appropriately treated her like a lovesick child, openly mocking her unrequited feelings for Marius. Now he acted as if they were long lost friends.

_Perhaps a bullet is still lodged in his head_, she thought. Immediately she regretted that thought, shoving it into the back of her mind. Of course she meant it as a joke, and she hadn't said it aloud, but she still felt guilty.

Taking a glance back at the crippled man, she noticed that he looked vulnerable for the first time since they had met. Even with guns pointed at him at the barricade, his face showed nothing but determination. Yet now, while there was no threat, he appeared to be more somber than ever. That fact was rather impressive to Eponine, as she didn't think that he could look glummer than she had previously seen.

Enjolras interrupted her train of thought as he cleared his throat, gesturing to her to take the spot on the bed next to him. It was almost as if it was déjà-vu from her earlier interaction with Marius. However, she knew that Apollo would not be breaking her heart anytime soon – or ever.

"So, Enjolras," she started slowly, his name feeling foreign on her tongue. "How did you end up here?"

"I was staying with Joly. But it felt a little wrong, always being around. You know how he and Musichetta are. It was invasive and I didn't give them any time alone, with me being in such a needy state." He winced as he removed his coat, which Eponine promptly scooped out of his hands and placed in a drawer. "Joly was checking up on Marius frequently, and he offered to take me in so Joly could focus on his studies and his woman. I was grateful, as was Joly. I'm sure he missed the embrace of his love, especially after thinking he never would hold her again."

Eponine cocked her head to the side, absorbing his words. "For a man who strayed from women, you sure sound like you know what you're talking about. Somewhat of a romantic, aren't you?"

"I read a lot," he muttered, giving her a bitter look. "I'm far from a romantic. Any romance that happens in my life is simply between me and my Patria."

"Why dedicate so much to something that never gives anything back to you?"

"I could say the same about you and Monsieur Pontmercy," he spat back rather defensively.

The brunette was taken aback by how cutting his words sounded, nodding slowly in agreement. She stood up and turned on her heel, refusing to look at him as she spoke.

"You don't understand," she whispered. "And you never will, because you've never truly loved anyone but yourself. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find my brother before he destroys something of value."

Biting down on her lip to refrain from crying, she walked toward the doorway to retreat back to her room. The day had been emotionally exhausting, and at this point, all she wanted was to bury herself in blankets until the sun rose once again.

"I was always kind of envious of you, Eponine. Did you know that?"

She froze in her tracks, turning slowly to face Enjolras once again. His words made no sense to her at all. He had so many people that believed in him. So many people that were willing to protect him with their own lives. He had the world, and yet he felt envy because of _her_? Eponine remained silent, waiting for him to continue with his reasoning.

"I just…" he groaned, rubbing his temples. "You know what it's like to love. Unreciprocated or not, you've experienced this emotion. And you were so selfless about it. I envy you because you have more figured out than I do. Sometimes I wish that I could love someone. But my pride keeps me from it. Almost dying at that barricade made me realize that I've missed out on so much by dedicating my life to the cause. Will I ever feel more than contempt for a person? Or will I be doomed to be alone for the rest of my life? Not like I expect the rest of my life to be too much longer, though."

How morbid his words were upset Eponine. He was supposed to be an optimistic, strong man, and yet here he was, crumbling right before her eyes.

"Say something. Even if it's that I'm an idiot."

"You're an idiot." She gave him a warm half-smile, taking her previous spot next to him once more. "You're not missing out on anything. Trust me. Love is full of heartbreak."

"But what if I don't even know what that feels like? I've missed out on so much," he sighed. "I know I said that the message from God was to keep fighting, but… what if it wasn't? What if I'm supposed to take this as an opportunity to live a different life?"

"If you lived a different life, you wouldn't be Enjolras."


End file.
